Say Please
by Bookworm85
Summary: Two instances, seven years apart, members of the Batfamily are kidnapped and forced to beg for the younger hero's safety.
1. Chapter 1

Two instances, seven years apart, members of the Batfamily are kidnapped and forced to beg for the younger hero's safety.

Note- In the scenes marked "Then," Robin is Dick Grayson and he is 12. In the scenes marked "Now," Robin is Tim Drake, who is 14.

Rated T for violence and brief swearing.

* * *

**Say Please**

**Then**

Robin let out a whoop as he executed a perfect aerial kick to the thug's face. He never felt more alive than when he was fighting bad guys, and after three years of it, the preteen was pretty good at it. He shot a glance at Batman to see how his partner was doing. The Caped Crusader never ceased to amaze Robin with his speed and accuracy in a fight.

In his peripheral vision, the young hero saw another thug take a swing at his head, thinking to take advantage of the boy's momentary distraction. But Robin leaned into a backbend and kicked his legs up in a reverse cartwheel, catching the man's fist between his ankles and dragging the criminal off balance with his momentum.

Earlier in the night, Batman had turned up intel on a drug cartel operating in Gotham, headed by a man named Mason Sawyer. The 42 year old had moved his operation to Gotham less than six months ago, and somehow had managed to hold his own against the four other cartels that called Gotham home. So the two heroes went to the warehouse to give them a proper Bat welcome.

Once on his feet, Robin quickly rendered his larger foe unconscious and turned back to the first thug. The low-level workers had scattered as soon as Batman and Robin arrived, leaving the hired guns to defend the warehouse where the drugs were being processed. There were ten guards total, three of them now lying on the ground. Ten was more then they usually fought together, but Robin had been pushing himself in training lately, and he felt confident the Dynamic Duo could take out their enemies without major injuries on their part.

One of guards decided desperate times called for some creativity, and he shoved a rolling table towards the bird. Robin avoided it with ease, but didn't stop to think this attack was merely a distraction. He moved right into range of a baseball bat-wielding criminal, who was ready to attack. The bat came down hard on the boy's head, and the preteen fell to his knees, dazed.

Robin felt an arm snake around his neck and the cool metal of a knife against his throat. "Batman, surrender, or the brat gets it!" his captor said loudly. Disappointment at his failure filled Robin before nausea from the blow chased it away.

Batman narrowed his eyes, and for almost three seconds everyone stood frozen. Robin worried that his mentor would listen to the man's threat and they would both be captured. This was an unfounded fear. A whirring sound went right by Robin's ear, followed by a scream of pain as his captor released his hold on both his knife and his hostage. Robin woozily got to his feet, with some part of his brain registering the batarang in the man's hand. Maybe his earlier optimism was correct. They would take down these men, no problem.

That was his last thought before a concussion grenade knocked him completely out.

**Now**

Nightwing was worried about the newest Robin, Tim Drake. The boy excelled at planning, deciphering, hacking, and solving- all intellectual pursuits. But he was still a novice when it came to hand-to-hand combat. Which was reasonable, since Robin had only first been allowed to patrol five months ago.

Bruce was out of the country on business, so Nightwing volunteered to partner up with his former namesake. He didn't want Robin patrolling alone. It was a good thing, too, since they found themselves in the the middle of a fight with the Street Demonz gang in a back alley. Nightwing made sure to always keep the teen in sight. Tim would probably be annoyed about the mothering, but Dick was more concerned with keeping his partner alive than with how the younger boy felt about it.

When Nightwing blocked an attack meant for Robin, the younger boy rolled his eyes and said quietly, "I had that." Nightwing gave him a cheeky grin and went after another gang member. Tim was too good of a kid to hold a grudge against him for his overprotective streak.

Fighting in Gotham was different than fighting in Bludhaven. Nightwing hadn't been active long enough for word of the vigilante's reputation to spread. He was able to catch the lowlifes off-guard. In Gotham, however, Batman had been at work for nearly two decades. The criminals had adapted to the threat. They traveled in groups, sported serious firepower, and fought ruthlessly against caped vigilantes.

Nightwing spared a look away from his younger brother to take out two men who were trying to surround him. He laughed aloud. A few members of the gang were probably younger than he was. After facing villains like the Joker and Two-Face, run of the mill bad guys just did not surprise or frighten him.

He took care of the threat and then turned back to see Robin crumple to the ground. "Robin!" he yelled, moving towards his partner. Before he had taken more than a step, the boy's assailant pulled the unconscious boy upright and put a gun against the young hero's temple. Nightwing glared at the man who was now holding the teen in front of him like a shield. It had been too long since he kept up with the names of the gang members of Gotham. He was going to call this one "Ponytail," in honor of the man's ridiculous choice in hairstyle.

"Think you're faster than a bullet?" the man sneered. "Go ahead, if you want to see the inside of his head."

Dick was struck by sudden déjà vu. Batman had saved him from a similar situation. He should do the same for Tim. But Dick wasn't Batman, and a small error in calculation could cost the boy his life.

"Are you gonna fight or what?" Robin's captor taunted. "C'mon, I bet you could make it. Maybe."

When Nightwing didn't attack, the other men moved forward to surround him as their confidence increased.

"Get on the ground," Ponytail ordered. Nightwing tensed, but he didn't have another option. He knelt slowly, using one hand to 'steady himself' on the ground so he could subtly press a button on his utility belt that would send an SOS to the Batcave. Alfred could get word to Bruce. It wouldn't be a speedy rescue, but at least there would be backup if he couldn't get them out of this mess. 'Let's call it Plan C,' Nightwing decided.

"Hands up," Ponytail said. Nightwing complied. He waited there for a few seconds until a blow to the head knocked him out.

**Then **

Groaning, Robin lifted his head. He blinked a few times to get his vision to focus. The room was sideways, which confused the boy until he realized he was lying on his side. His wrists and ankles were bound together with wire. He glanced down to see that his belt had been taken. Well, no one said this was going to be easy.

He looked up to find Batman was chained to the wall in front of him. His disappointment grew as he realized it was his fault his mentor had been captured. Robin reassured himself that Batman always had a plan, he would get them out of there, but that did nothing for his guilt.

"So, you're awake, little bird," said a voice from behind him, making Robin flinch. "The Bat hasn't been good company, so I'm hoping you'll be more interesting." The man circled Robin, finally coming into view. It was Mason Sawyer. The man squatted down in front of him. "You're not so tough now, are you? I bet it wouldn't take much to make you chirp." His companions laughed uproariously at their boss's joke.

Robin gave his captor the most haughty look he could manage in his current predicament. "Your threats are what I'd expect from a middle school bully."

The man glared at him. "You should know. What are you, in fifth grade?" Robin forced himself not to bristle at the jab to his age. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

Robin wanted to see if Batman was free yet, but Sawyer was blocking his line of vision. Besides, if the thugs had forgotten about the other hero, Robin didn't want to bring their attention back to him.

"No, but it is past time for you and your men to be in jail."

"You think you're funny, don't you, kid? Well, maybe I'll beat the funny out of you." The boss stood and motioned forward one of his men. The man, who Robin charitably nicknamed "Ugly" in his head, kicked the boy in the stomach. Robin instinctively curled inward. The man kicked again, this time connecting with the boy's side.

Robin tolerated the abuse without a sound. He was trained for this. He also managed to keep his fear in check, fueled by the certainty that Batman would save both of them. Sawyer made a noise of disappointment. "Is that as hard as you can kick?" he asked.

"Yeah," Robin chimed in. "You kick like a girl." The thug kicked him harder. "Actually, I know some girls who kick harder than you. Maybe you kick more like a baby."

Ugly pulled back his foot to deliver another kick, but the boss stopped him.

"Hey, Batman, don't you care that we're beating up your sidekick?" Sawyer called.

'Partner,' Robin thought to himself, wisely deciding to save that argument for another time. Both men had moved out of his way, so he could now see his mentor. Robin waited to see what Batman would do.

Batman remained silent. "What, do you not care about the twerp?" the boss said. "You're not going to tell us not to hurt him?" Still nothing from the Caped Crusader. Mason Sawyer continued, "How about this? You ask me nicely, and I'll leave the boy alone." The other men snickered. "All you have to do is say please."

Batman could have been a statue for all the reaction they were getting from him. Robin tried not to feel hurt that Batman didn't stand up for him. He couldn't imagine Batman begging, not for anything, but this fueled the quiet insecurities he had about Bruce's love for him.

"He doesn't think we'll really hurt him," the boss decided. "Let's show him he's wrong."

The other men moved forward and took turns kicking Robin in the back, side, chest and legs. The boy curled up, making his figure as small as possible. His uniform provided some protection, but the force and multitude of kicks began to take its toll. His ribs hurt and breathing became more difficult.

Finally, the boss called for a halt. "Anything to say, Bats?" Sawyer walked right up to Batman. Robin held his breath, sure this was the moment Batman had been waiting for. "Nothing? You really don't care if we kill the kid?"

Robin decided to provide a distraction, in case that was what Batman needed to finally break free of his bonds and deliver swift justice to these thugs. "If you don't want to kill me, then you should make Ugly here leave. He's killing me with his ugly face."

Enraged, Ugly lashed out again, this time breaking Robin's nose and making his eyes water. 'Alfred's going to have fun with this,' the boy thought. 'He's going to come after me with concealer again to cover up the bruises.'

"Look, the kid's crying," his attacker announced.

"Actually, the nasal passage is... connected to... tear ducts... when blockage occurs... the lachrymal fluid... comes out... there," Robin said. His voice sounded weird to him and he only managed the sentence by pausing several times to gasp for breath. It also hurt, but he wasn't going to let this guy get away with saying he was crying.

His attacker scoffed. "Look who's the smart guy."

"Smarter than you," Robin retorted. 'Come on, Batman. You've had plenty of time. What are you waiting for? All the bad guys to be in a line so you can knock them all out in a single attack?'

The boss hadn't moved from his spot next to Batman. He studied his prisoner. "I've always heard you were a coldhearted bastard, but this is dark, even for you."

Ugly was gearing up to kick Robin again when a sound of bone hitting flesh distracted everyone. The criminals all looked up to see that Batman was free and taking his vengeance. The boss was already a heap on the floor, and within a minute, Batman had incapacitated the others.

With the threat taken care of, Batman approached his sidekick. He knelt and released Robin from his restraints. "Let's get out of here," he said gruffly.

**Now**

The first thing Nightwing saw when he awoke was Robin sitting in front of him five feet away, ankles tied with ropes to the legs of the chair, and his arms behind his back. The elder hero assumed Robin's wrists must have been handcuffed when he realized he was similarly restrained. His belt and gloves were missing- another thing that wouldn't have happened in Bludhaven. The criminals there had not learned to fear the tools that could be hidden in the tiny pockets of that belt, nor did they realize there was a lock pick he kept in his glove. Nightwing rightly guessed that Robin's gloves had also been taken. The teen would not be able to escape on his own.

But Nightwing knew he had to adapt with his enemies. Gotham criminals knew he had a pick in his gloves, so they took the gloves. Therefore, he had hidden an additional pick in his sleeve. The only problem was that he was still getting used to this backup plan since he never needed to use it in his current home. He twisted his wrist, trying to trigger the release.

One of the men broke away from the crowd and walked over to the two prisoners. Nightwing remembered this guy- Roadkill, the leader of the Street Demonz. "Well, well, you ain't the Bat."

"Nope, I'm just filling in. Batman had more important things to take care of than some lowlife thugs," Nightwing said. Step one, keep Robin safe by drawing their attention away from him. Step two, get free from the restraints. Step three, kick their butts.

The leader's fist connected with Nightwing's jaw. Step one accomplished. Now if he could just get that stupid pick out of his sleeve...

"You're not very smart, birdbrain."

"You think I'm afraid of you?"

Roadkill pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans and pointed it at Nightwing. "You should be, punk, 'cause I can make you deader than a doornail."

"You're not going to kill me, because you know that Batman is probably already on his way." Nightwing smiled confidently.

The other man hesitated, then overcompensated to hide his momentary weakness from his crew. "You think I'm afraid of some dude who likes to play dress up? I'll do whatever I want to you. And the kid, too," he added, moving back to include Robin in his threat.

Bring the attention away from Robin. "Yeah, I don't think you'll hurt me. You're as afraid of me as you are of Batman." Nightwing was rewarded with a pistol whip across the face.

"You need to learn some respect," the man said, pointing the gun back at Nightwing.

"And you're going to teach it to me?" Dammit, why wouldn't the stupid catch for the lock pick release already? There was no point in having a Plan B if it didn't work. Stalling was only going to take them so far. Bruce wasn't due back in the city for another twelve hours. Even if Alfred made contact with him, the fastest Batman could be through the door was three hours away.

"Yeah, I am." The gang leader moved toward Nightwing, but then changed his mind. "How much do ya think it would take to make the kid scream?"

Fear gripped Nightwing's chest, but he didn't allow it to show. "Oh, sure go for the easier target. I knew you weren't tough enough to take me on."

Roadkill smirked. "I see what you're doing. It won't work on me." The man moved behind Robin and motioned two of his men over. The boss held a gun to the back of Robin's head while the other two men uncuffed the teen's hands and recuffed them in front of him. Then they tied a rope around his shoulders to keep his back against the chair. They were very careful not to let their guard down for a second as they did this.

Nightwing saw the annoyance on Robin's face when he wasn't given any opportunity to escape. At least Robin wasn't panicking. Nightwing tried to reassure himself that Tim was trained for this, just like he was. "It's really sad when three armed men have to restrain a teenager because they're afraid of him," he tried, but the boss was set on his course. He stuck his gun in the waistband of his jeans.

"I've had other people disrespect me, and as much fun as it is to teach them the lesson by beating every inch of their body, I've found it is much more effective when I beat on someone they care about." The man grabbed Robin's left hand and dislocated his index finger. Robin bit his lip but didn't make a sound. "That didn't work? Let's try it again." The man moved on to the next finger, and the one after that. Nightwing saw sweat run down the side of the teen's face.

"Stop! I get it. I'll stop mouthing off," Nightwing promised. Maybe he could get these men to leave, and then he could get Robin and himself out of here.

"Not good enough. I want to hear the bird beg. No," he said suddenly, changing his mind. "I want to see _you_ beg."

The elder hero remembered himself in Tim's place, how Batman refused to beg for him. Batman said it was to protect him. But when the boss took hold of Robin's three dislocated fingers and twisted them roughly, causing the boy to gasp in pain, he couldn't stay silent. Tim's emotional health was important, too. He needed to know Nightwing cared for him. "Don't hurt him."

"Say please," he taunted.

"Please."

The boss smirked again and then pulled another digit out of its socket.

"I said please! What do you want?"

"I want you and the other do-gooders out of my city. I want you to stop interfering with me and my crew. And I don't want some snot-nosed kid thinking he can get the best of my gang." With those last words, Roadkill punched Robin in the face.

Nightwing twisted his wrists frantically and was pleased to hear a faint click as the lock pick was finally released. It took him three seconds to be free of the cuffs, and another three to cut the ropes around his ankles using the sharp end of the pick. He reached behind him for the chair and used it to hit the men who had been tormenting Robin. When the gang members by the door raised their weapons, Nightwing used the toe of his boot to flip up a discarded gun and then caught it midair. He ejected the clip and threw the clip, and then the empty gun, with startling precision at the foreheads of the two men shooting at him.

When all the men were down, Nightwing released Robin from his restraints. "You okay?" he asked gently.

Robin nodded, but his face was pale.

"Let's get you home."

**Then**

Batman contacted Commissioner Gordon to inform him of the drug cartel's bust, but after that, said nothing to Robin. In fact, the ride back to the Batcave was completely in silence. Robin spent the first half of the trip trying to figure out what Batman was thinking. Maybe his mentor was mad at him for getting them caught, or disappointed that the preteen hadn't managed to free himself, or something else entirely. As they neared the Cave, however, his injuries distracted him enough that it took his focus off deciphering Batman's mood.

Alfred was waiting for them, as he always did. A frown of concern crossed the butler's face when he saw the state Robin was in. "Go change, Master Dick," he said in a tone that didn't allow for argument while still not exactly sounding like a command. "Then I will see to your injuries."

Dick went into the attached bathroom and shed his Robin uniform. He winced when he saw the bruises on his chest, and then regretted it because of the pain it caused his face. He examined his face in the mirror. Bruising on his face, but no black eyes yet. He might be able to escape notice at school on Monday. Dick got a cool wet cloth and dabbed it on his face, but found that was also a dumb idea. He would let Alfred take care of patching him up. The butler was gentler than the boy could ever be. He pulled on some sweatpants and left the bathroom.

Bruce, still in his uniform, was on the computer when Dick stepped out into the main part of the Cave. Alfred was waiting next to the exam table with bandages in addition to an ice pack. Dick wondered if Bruce had told him about his injured ribs. Dick tried to catch his mentor's eye, but Bruce never looked his way. Trying not to feel hurt, he went to the exam table.

"I believe your nose may be broken," Alfred said, in a faintly disapproving tone.

"You should see the other guy," Dick quipped. The barest traces of a smile graced Alfred's face. The butler was much easier to read than Bruce Wayne.

"Thankfully it was not knocked out of place, but it will hurt." Alfred passed over some pills and a glass of water. Dick took them gratefully. "Do you believe you have broken ribs?" he asked.

"I don't think so, but it's harder to breathe than normal. I can't tell if it's just the bruising." Dick learned long ago there was no point in lying to Alfred or pretending things were not as bad as they were. The butler could detect deception a mile away and always discovered the truth.

Alfred checked anyway, feeling each rib for breaks. He nodded in approval when his search came up without any. He spread some ointment on the ribs and then wrapped them with bandages. "I trust you will go easy the next few days," he said with a lifted eyebrow.

"Of course," Dick answered with his most winning smile. They both knew that within 36 hours, the boy would be climbing over furniture and walking up the banister.

Alfred put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm glad you're home." Then he left the Cave. Dick was confused at the abrupt departure until he turned and saw Bruce coming towards him. The man had finally pulled back his cowl.

Dick chewed nervously on his lip as the older man approached. He tried to prepare himself for the lecture he was sure he deserved. He was surprised when Bruce said, "You know why I did it, right?"

"Did what?" he asked. This didn't sound like any of the lectures he had received in the past.

"Why I didn't... do what those men wanted. If they knew they could hurt me through you, they would hurt you even more. And in the future, they would know to target you."

Dick felt relieved. Bruce wasn't mad at him. In fact, Bruce was saying that he cared, and this was just another of the strange ways that he showed his concern. Robin knew there was no point in telling Batman that the criminals already figured out that he was an easier target than Batman himself. One, it made him sound weak and two, Batman was never wrong. "Oh. I was worried that you didn't get free of your restraints faster. I couldn't figure out what you wanted me to do."

Years of living with Bruce Wayne had trained the boy in reading the minute facial expressions the Dark Knight exhibited that others missed. Dick could have sworn that it was shame on his mentor's face.

"The concussion grenade damaged the mechanism in my glove. The lock pick was stuck and it took me that long to get it out."

"So I did okay?" Dick asked, still needing the reassurance.

"You did okay," Bruce allowed. "Rest tomorrow, and the next day we will train on how to get free when your attacker has their arm around your neck. We will also discuss reading the situation to see if the enemy is using an attack as a diversion."

**Now**

Once safely back in the Batcave, Tim went to change without a word. Alfred was there, waiting to tend to his injuries. Dick changed into some sweats and went upstairs to shower. When he had showered and changed into some spare clothes that he left at the manor, he went to Tim's room to check on him. Alfred had treated him and released him already. Dick assumed that Alfred was now on the phone with Bruce, reassuring him that both the boys were home.

The door was slightly ajar, but Dick knocked anyway. "Come in," Tim said softly. Dick entered to see the boy sitting cross-legged on his bed. Dick joined him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Bruised, but I'll recover."

Dick could tell something was wrong. "You want to talk about it?" Tim shrugged. "Is this about getting captured? Because I can tell you, it happens to the best of us."

"You shouldn't have done it!" Tim said forcefully.

Dick mentally retraced the night. "Done what?" he asked carefully.

"What those men wanted. You shouldn't have begged. Not for me," he added quietly.

The man's heart went out to this boy. Apparently he had been with Batman long enough for the 'mission first' mentality to take root. "Tim, look at me," he commanded. The boy looked up. "I care about you and I would do a lot more than that to keep you safe."

A smile crept over Tim's face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're totally worth it." Dick wrapped an arm around the boy. "I love you, little brother."


	2. Chapter 2

The original story was from Dick's POV. I decided to do a second part from Bruce's and Tim's POV. Here's hoping you enjoy part 2 as much as the original. Once again, the story will take place "Then" (7 years ago) and "Now."

Say Please

Part 2

**Then**

Batman dodged a punch and then knocked the perp out with one blow. Most of Batman's attention was on the enemies around him (9 conscious, one down, most armed with makeshift weapons since the heroes had relieved them of their original weapons, only three armed with handguns). But part of his attention was on his young sidekick. He knew Robin was capable- Batman wouldn't have brought him in the field if he didn't think so- but it was still his job to keep the boy safe. Over the last three years, there had been plenty of times when Batman had needed to bring an injured Robin to the Cave for treatment. Sometimes the injuries were severe enough that Batman had carried the boy. On those occasions when Dick hadn't entered the Cave under his own power, Bruce had to do some deep introspection. What right did he have to put this young boy- this child- in danger? It wasn't Dick's fight. He should be concentrating on school and friends, not drug distribution and gang violence. And yet, when Dick was healed enough that Alfred wouldn't do more than sigh at Dick leaving the bed, Robin was accompanying Batman on patrol once again.

Batman was glad that the other workers had cleared out when the vigilantes arrived. There was always the possibility that they would stay to fight for their livelihood. But this was Gotham. There were plenty of other places to make a quick buck if you didn't ask questions. The workers would much prefer dealing with a job search than the broken bones that Batman would provide. Batman kept his eyes peeled for the leader, Mason Sawyer, but so far the man wasn't present. If he were on the premises, he would either be in his office or fleeing like the workers. It didn't matter. When Batman was done, he would interrogate one of the guards he was fighting now for their boss' location.

The guards had spread out when the vigilantes arrived. Batman was in constant motion, trying to keep their attention on him. He knew that the criminals tended to gravitate towards Robin, sensing he was the easier target. Easier, maybe, but not easy. Batman had trained Robin well. And Dick had been training extra hard lately. He had proven to Bruce that he was capable of taking on more. Batman was impressed with the skill Robin was showing tonight. Heaven help criminals when Robin reached adulthood. Robin was capable now, but as an adult, he would truly be a force to be reckoned with.

Batman and Robin continued their assault on the criminals that kept getting up even as they were knocked down. Batman saw the rolling table heading for his sidekick, but before he could give a shouted warning, Robin had already moved aside. Unfortunately, that moved him right in the way of another criminal, who used the boy's inattention to knock him to the ground with a plank of wood. Batman had to incapacitate the two thugs next to him before he could move towards the other hero, and that delay cost him the advantage. Robin's attacker pulled Robin up by his hair and put the knife to the boy's throat.

A quick visual scan of Robin showed that he was conscious. No visible blood on his head, but his dark hair could be hiding it for now. The mask made it hard to see if Robin had a concussion. Batman filed that away to check on later. Now, he had to get that thug away.

"Batman, surrender, or the brat gets it!" Robin's captor said.

Batman considered his options. Without moving his head, he took in the position of the thugs. He had a direct line of fire between him and Robin's captor, if he was careful not to hit Robin himself. A grapple hook fired at the ceiling would allow him to swing over and knock the man over. But he couldn't count on the man being distracted for so many seconds. A better plan would be a batarang.

He slipped one into his palm stealthily. None of the other men noticed. One trick Batman learned early on was that people tended to look where you look. If you don't look down at your hand, neither will they.

He let the batarang go, and it flew true. It struck the man in the back of the hand. Robin's captor screamed and released his weapon and his prisoner. Batman made another note to himself to raise the collar on Robin's uniform to provide more protection in the neck area.

Batman moved forward just as he heard something like a small metal ball hit the ground and bounce. A concussion grenade. He leaped forward, intending to use his cape to shield both Robin and himself from the blast. He didn't get there in time. The force propelled him backwards, and connecting with the ground made his head spin.

He raised his head weakly to see the men surround him. Before he could push himself upright, a boot to the head knocked him completely out.

**Now**

Being Robin was the coolest thing ever. Even after five months of being allowed to patrol with Batman, the thrill had not worn off. Tim was careful to conceal his excitement around his mentor, however. His goal was to emulate Batman in every way. Then Batman would see what a good partner he was. Imitating his partner meant he had to keep the joy buried under a stoic mask. He could do that. Tim had plenty of practice with figurative masks long before he donned a literal one.

When Bruce told him that he was going out of town for the weekend, Tim could barely disguise his disappointment. Robin was only allowed to patrol on weekends, and obviously only with Batman at his side. The second part was so apparent that the rule didn't even need to be spoken aloud. Since Bruce wasn't going to be back until Monday night, that meant another week before Robin could patrol.

Tim was in his room reading and listening to music, when he heard a knock at the door. "Come in," he called.

The door opened to reveal Dick. Tim was surprised. He didn't know that Dick was in town. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, that's a nice greeting," Dick said. Even though Tim knew Dick was teasing, he could feel his cheeks turn red.

"Sorry. I wasn't expecting you."

"It's important to expect the unexpected, Timmy." Dick walked over to stand in front of him. "How would you like to go on patrol tonight?"

Tim looked at him in confusion. "Bruce is leaving in an hour. He didn't say anything about going out before he left, and I know he won't let me go out alone."

"Who said anything about alone? I happen to know a very responsible older superhero that is free to partner up with you."

Tim let a tentative smile appear. "Really? You want to patrol with me?"

"Sure, why not? I'm not here as much as I could be, and this will be a good outing for brotherly bonding."

If you would have told Tim two years ago that _Dick Grayson_ would refer to him as his brother, he would have called them delusional. "Okay! I'll be ready in five minutes," Tim said, abandoning the book on his bed. Dick chuckled as the teen raced out of the room and followed after him.

Both of them suited up quickly and waved goodbye to Alfred. "Do be careful, young sirs," Alfred said as they climbed into the Batmobile.

"We're always careful, Alfie," Dick said. The elderly butler raised an eyebrow at that.

When the roof of the Batmobile slid into place, Dick said, "Let's try for no injuries tonight. I want to prove to Alfred that we aren't as reckless as he seems to think we are."

The first hour of patrol was without incident. Tim's enthusiasm was beginning to wane. He had been looking forward to showing Dick his skills. Then a mugging caught his attention. Robin took the man out quickly without Nightwing's help. As Robin tied up the mugger, he worried that he should have let the older hero take the lead. His fears were dispelled when Nightwing approached with a smile on his face.

"Nice work, Robin!"Nightwing said. Robin glowed at the praise. They continued patrolling the rooftops.

"Hey, look," Robin said. He pointed at six men lurking in an alley. Two of them were picking the lock on a door while the others stood watch. "That's the Street Demonz gang."

Nightwing stared at the men for several seconds. Robin was about to ask him what was wrong when Nightwing said, "I've got this. You wait here as backup."

Hurt and annoyance ran through Robin. "I can handle myself. It's not like I'm taking them on alone." When Nightwing didn't look convinced, he continued, "Batman and I have taken down six men before." After he said it, he realized that sounded like he was challenging Nightwing's abilities, asking if he was as good as Batman. He was still trying to think of a way to take back the unintentional challenge without sabotaging his plea to fight when Nightwing answered.

"Okay, fine. Stay aware." Nightwing grappled to the far side of the gang, drawing their attention. Robin landed on the other side, behind them. The fight started off well enough, but then three additional gang members joined in. Robin grit his teeth and fought hard. He had convinced Nightwing to let him do this. He had to prove that he could handle it.

Robin looked up to see a man take a swing at him, but before he could block it, Nightwing stepped in and deflected the attack. "I had that," he said quietly. He didn't want Nightwing to think he was just some kid that needed protecting. But Nightwing gave one of his trademark grins and went back to beating up bad guys.

Robin shook his head and rolled his eyes. Nightwing couldn't help his instinct to protect him. Neither could Batman when Robin patrolled with him. An explosion of pain came from the back of Robin's head and the sounds of the fight seemed far away. He crumpled to the ground and everything went black.

**Then**

It couldn't have been more than half an hour later when Batman awoke. He had a pretty good internal clock, and even considering the minor head injury, Batman figured it was accurate within a few minutes. Quickly taking in his surroundings, the hero saw that he was chained by his wrists to the wall behind him. This wasn't the room they were in earlier, but probably the same building. Batman was no lightweight, and the uniform added another fifty pounds. Their captors wouldn't risk trying to move him to another building before Batman awoke.

Robin was lying unconscious on the ground several feet in front of him, ankles bound with wire. The boy's arms were behind him, suggesting that his wrists were also restrained. Robin's utility belt was gone, just like Batman's was. Batman wouldn't be able to get knife out of his boot unless their enemies all looked away from him long enough for him to stretch his foot up to his hand. That left the lockpick in his glove. The device was small enough that he could work on jimmying the lock without the others noticing, even if they were looking right at him. Batman had practiced enough over the years that he could unlock cuffs without looking at them. This would be easy.

He pressed the trigger on his index finger that would release the lockpick. Then he pressed it again. Still nothing. It must have gotten stuck somehow. The concussion grenade? It was a possibility. He would need to do testing back in the Cave to make sure this didn't happen again.

Mason Sawyer, the leader of the cartel, saw that Batman was awake and swaggered over. Another five men looked up to see what was going on. Batman recognized them from the fight. The remaining five men must have been nursing their injuries in another room. "Glad to see you're with us, Batman. I was worried you might have had some brain damage from the blast."

Batman remained silent. It was a tactic he was still working on with Robin. Robin preferred to drive his enemies crazy with idle chitchat and taunts. But Batman knew his silence unsettled the criminals they faced. People don't like the silence. They'll say anything to fill it. Batman got more out of interrogations from being silent and letting the suspect chatter than any other method. Well, dangling them over rooftops was a close second.

"Not going to talk to me, hmm? That's fine. I have some things to say to you. I'm very surprised that you found me so quickly. I've been working on a quiet acquisition of the market. I figured I would have to make some bigger waves to get you sniffing around. Is crime down overall in Gotham, giving you some free time?"

When Batman still didn't speak, an expression of annoyance crossed Sawyer's face. He waved to one of his thugs to come over. "If the Bat doesn't want to talk, maybe we'll have to loosen his tongue." The thug punched Batman in the middle of the chest, which was a big mistake. The criminal screamed and fell to the ground, clutching his injured hand.

Sawyer's annoyance went up a notch. "Not with your bare hand, idiot," he said, although he hadn't thought to warn the man before then. "Grab a weapon."

Thug #1, the stupid one who just punched a Kevlar suit with a bare hand, removed his gun from his waistband while Thug #2 approached with a plank of wood. The other men watched with interest.

Thug #1 pistol-whipped Batman. It hurt, of course, but Batman accepted the pain and then let it go. Pain was your body's way of telling you something was wrong. Nothing to do about it but get the lockpick out before the men turned their attention on Robin.

Thug #2 swung the board at Batman's midsection. It didn't hurt as much as the blow to the face. Honestly, do these criminals not understand his suit was designed to withstand attacks?

"Boss," one of the men in the back of the room called. Sawyer and his two thugs moved toward him. Batman tried to listen in to their conversation, but was distracted by Robin's return to consciousness. 'No,' Batman thought. 'Stay still. Don't let them know you're awake, or they'll target you.'

It was too late. When Sawyer turned back towards Batman, he caught sight of Robin shifting slightly. "So, you're awake, little bird. The Bat hasn't been good company, so I'm hoping you'll be more interesting." The man circled Robin and squatted down in front of him. "You're not so tough now, are you? I bet it wouldn't take much to make you chirp." The other thugs laughed. Either their intelligence was low enough that they actually thought the joke was funny, or they realized that laughing at the boss' jokes would keep them employed, and alive, longer.

Robin's voice was clear and without a trace of fear. "Your threats are what I'd expect from a middle school bully."

"You should know. What are you, in fifth grade? Isn't it past your bedtime?" Sawyer retorted.

"No, but it is past time for you and your men to be in jail."

"You think you're funny, don't you, kid? Well, maybe I'll beat the funny out of you." The boss stood and motioned forward one of his men. Thug #1 approached Robin and kicked the boy in the stomach. Robin instinctively curled inward. The man kicked again, this time connecting with the boy's side. Batman reminded himself that Robin's suit was reinforced to protect the young hero from attacks. It didn't make it easier to watch Robin being hurt with no way to protect himself.

"Is that as hard as you can kick?" Sawyer asked, annoyed that his thug couldn't get a boy to cry out in pain.

"Yeah," Robin chimed in. "You kick like a girl." The thug kicked him harder. "Actually, I know some girls who kick harder than you. Maybe you kick more like a baby."

Robin's taunts were juvenile, but they had the desired effect of keeping the attention away from Batman. If the trigger mechanism in his glove was functional, Batman would have unlocked his restraints and rendered all his opponents in the room unconscious by now.

"Hey, Batman, don't you care that we're beating up your sidekick?" Sawyer called. He and Thug #1 had moved out of the way so Batman could see Robin. The boy's posture showed that he was holding up under the abuse.

"What, do you not care about the twerp?" the boss said. Still nothing from the Caped Crusader. "You're not going to tell us not to hurt him?"

Mason Sawyer continued, "How about this? You ask me nicely, and I'll leave the boy alone." The other men snickered. "All you have to do is say please."

Batman couldn't respond. Their only way out of this is if Batman got free from his restraints. As much as he hated seeing Robin hurt and being unable to prevent it, this was necessary. If he thought it enough times, he might even believe himself.

"He doesn't think we'll really hurt him," the boss decided. "Let's show him he's wrong."

The other men moved forward to assist. The boy curled up, making his figure as small as possible. Robin barely made a sound as the men took turns kicking him in the back, side, chest and legs. Batman was proud of his protégé for his strength. But as time went on, Batman could tell the attack was taking its toll on the boy. Robin's breathing became labored. Batman mentally went through all the swears he knew as he fought the stubborn mechanism. When they went home, he wasn't sleeping until this was fixed for next time. Because there was not going to be another time when he watched his sidekick- his son- be injured while he stood by helplessly.

Finally, the boss called for a halt. "Anything to say, Bats?" He walked right up to Batman, right as the lockpick sprang out of his glove. Batman stared back at Sawyer, his face impassive. If Sawyer saw and confiscated the lockpick, then all the pain Robin had gone through was pointless. "Nothing? You really don't care if we kill the kid?"

"If you don't want to kill me, then you should make Ugly here leave. He's killing me with his ugly face." Batman would have smiled at Robin's taunt, if the two of them had been alone. He really needed to teach the boy some better insults.

Thug #1 kicked Robin in the nose. Batman heard it break and clenched his fists in anger. When he got loose, Thug #1 was going to get some special treatment from the Bat.

"Look, the kid's crying," the attacker announced. Sawyer turned to look, so Batman took that opportunity to move the pick to his other hand. He left his free hand wrapped in the chains so no one would see he was getting loose.

Robin said something about tear ducts and lachrymal fluid. Batman could hardly make out the words. Only Robin would give his tormentors a biology lesson.

"Look who's the smart guy."

"Smarter than you," Robin retorted.

The boss hadn't moved from his spot next to Batman. He studied his prisoner. "I've always heard you were a coldhearted bastard, but this is dark, even for you."

Finally! The click of the manacle was music to Batman's ears. Batman threw himself on Sawyer and knocked him out in a single blow. Then he quickly took down the other men, saving Thug #1 for last. Batman took great pleasure in beating the man who hurt his son. Some point after the man stopped struggling, Batman remembered to show restraint. He looked down at his gloves to see them covered in blood. Taking a deep breath, he felt the man's neck for a pulse. He found one. Another night of fighting against the vengeful instinct to kill and staying on the right side of the moral line.

With the threat taken care of, Batman approached his sidekick. He knelt and released Robin from his restraints. Part of him hesitated to touch Robin. He didn't want to touch him with blood-covered gloves, hands that didn't know when to stop punching. He could have gone too far. He could have broken the first rule he ever taught Robin- Don't kill.

"Let's get out of here," he said gruffly.

**Now**

When Tim woke, he had to blink his eyes a few times to get them to focus. His head throbbed from the blow to his head. Without moving his head, Robin took in the room. He and Nightwing were handcuffed to chairs facing each other. It looked like Nightwing was still unconscious. Then again, maybe he was really good at faking. It wouldn't surprise Robin. The men who had captured them were off to one side talking. They didn't seem to notice that Robin was awake.

Then Nightwing awoke. He didn't make a sound but the leader of the Street Demonz approached them. Robin had learned from Batman that his name was Roadkill.

"Well, well, you ain't the Bat."

"Nope, I'm just filling in. Batman had more important things to take care of than some lowlife thugs," Nightwing said.

The leader punched Nightwing, and Robin winced in sympathy.

"You're not very smart, birdbrain," Roadkill said.

"You think I'm afraid of you?" Nightwing retorted.

Robin's heart stopped when he saw Roadkill pull out a gun and point it at Nightwing. "You should be, punk, 'cause I can make you deader than a doornail."

"You're not going to kill me, because you know that Batman is probably already on his way," Nightwing said. Robin was amazed at the confidence he showed.

"You think I'm afraid of some dude who likes to play dress up? I'll do whatever I want to you. And the kid, too," he added, moving back to include Robin in his threat.

"Yeah, I don't think you'll hurt me. You're as afraid of me as you are of Batman."

The thug hit Nightwing in the face with his gun.

"You need to learn some respect," the man said, pointing the gun back at the elder hero.

"And you're going to teach it to me?"

"Yeah, I am." The gang leader moved toward Nightwing, but then changed his mind. "How much do ya think it would take to make the kid scream?"

"Oh, sure go for the easier target. I knew you weren't tough enough to take on me." Even though Robin knew that Nightwing was saying that to protect him, the statement hurt.

"I see what you're doing. It won't work on me." Roadkill and two of his men moved over to Robin. Roadkill pointed the gun at Robin to keep him from moving. The teen watched helplessly as the men unlocked his handcuffs only to recuff them in front of him. Then as an extra precaution, they tied a rope around his shoulders and the back of the chair. They weren't taking any chances, Robin noted with annoyance.

"It's really sad when three armed men have to restrain a teenager because they're afraid of him," Nightwing said. The thug stuck his gun in the waistband of his jeans.

"I've had other people disrespect me, and as much fun as it is to teach them the lesson by breaking every bone in their body, I've found it is much more effective when I beat on someone they care about." The man grabbed Robin's left hand and dislocated his index finger. Robin bit his lip to keep from making a sound. Part of his training included how to deal with torture. This was the first time that he had ever dealt with it in the field, though. "That didn't work? Let's try it again." Roadkill dislocated the next finger, and when that still didn't get the response he wanted, he did the one after that.

"Stop! I get it. I'll stop mouthing off," Nightwing promised.

"Not good enough. I want to hear the bird beg. No," he said suddenly. "I want to see _you_ beg."

Robin knew that Nightwing wouldn't do it. They were both trained by the same mentor. Batman had been very clear on not giving the bad guys what they wanted, and on not showing weakness. Robin was determined to make it easier for Nightwing to refuse by concealing his pain from the others. His plan went out the window when the boss took hold of Robin's three dislocated fingers and twisted them roughly. Robin gasped in agony. He immediately felt embarrassed at his weakness.

"Don't hurt him," Nightwing said.

"Say please," Roadkill taunted.

"Please."

Robin was surprised that Nightwing had said it, and then was more surprised when the boss dislocated a fourth finger. Robin understood now why Batman had been so insistent on this point. The bad guys wouldn't back off if you gave in. They would attack like sharks who smelled blood in the water.

"I said please! What do you want?"

"I want you and the other do-gooders out of my city. I want you to stop interfering with me and my crew. And I don't want some snot-nosed kid thinking he can get the best of my gang." Seeing Roadkill's fist coming at his face didn't help Robin do anything but flinch.

When he pushed past the pain and looked up, he saw that Nightwing was free. The older hero took out the criminals faster than Robin could follow since he was focused on his aching head and fingers.

When all the men were down, Nightwing knelt in front of Robin. He cut the rope and then unlocked the cuffs gently so he wouldn't hurt Robin's hands any more. "You okay?" he asked.

Robin nodded, which was a mistake. The movement made his stomach revolt. He looked up at Nightwing, intending to thank him for the rescue, but he was worried that if he opened his mouth, he would vomit. Nightwing put his arm around Robin's shoulders and helped him stand.

"Let's get you home."

**Then**

Batman had to contact Commissioner Gordon before taking Robin home. He kept the message short so he could move on to more pressing matters. Robin needed medical attention and sleep. The poor boy was swaying on his feet. Batman helped him back to the Batmobile and then spent the drive home trying to think of what to say to Robin. He probably should apologize. While it wasn't directly his fault that- What was he saying? He allowed Dick to be Robin, trained him, and brought him on patrol. How much more direct could the line of blame be drawn?

Batman knew he wasn't perfect. He tried hard to be. If he were perfect, then he could save everyone. Then no one else would have to deal with the pain of losing their loved ones to crime. But one thing he continued to struggle with was apologizing. Bruce Wayne wasn't expected to apologize. Neither was Batman. Batman was a symbol of hope, of justice. Batman wasn't allowed to be fallible.

When they reached the Cave, Batman still hadn't decided what he was going to say to Robin. Alfred saw Robin's injuries before the boy had crossed half the distance between the Batmobile and the elderly butler. "Go change, Master Dick. Then I will see to your injuries," Alfred said. Bruce was glad that Alfred had told Dick to leave the room. This gave Bruce the opportunity to consult his most trusted friend before talking with Dick.

Bruce sat at the computer, which he found was a comfortable spot to think (or as Alfred called it, brood). He waited until Dick had closed the bathroom door behind him before speaking. "Alfred, I need your help with something."

"Of course, sir. What can I do for you?"

"Tonight, Batman and Robin were captured." Bruce felt like a coward for describing the scene using their aliases, but he had a limited amount of time to get Alfred's advice before Dick returned and using their civilian names would slow him down due to guilt. Maybe he should put the cowl back on to give himself another layer of protection. He continued, "The men hurt Robin. They wanted m- Batman to... to beg them to stop. Batman didn't."

Alfred hadn't said anything yet, so Bruce rushed to excuse himself. "It wouldn't have been a good tactical decision. If the bad guys knew they could hurt Batman through Robin, they would have continued to do it. It wouldn't have made them stop. They enjoy having power over others too much."

Alfred considered this. "And does Master Dick know your reasoning behind this?"

Bruce winced. "Maybe? I've talked to him before about not bowing to your captor's demands."

"You need to tell him what you told me. If you don't, he will think you don't care about him. He will think that his safety and well-being are not a concern for you."

"Of course it's a concern! He is my top priority."

"Sometimes actions speak louder than words. And sometimes words need to be spoken, not just assumed." Both men looked at the bathroom door as it opened. Bruce quickly looked away.

Dick sat on the exam table. Bruce listened to the soft conversation between Alfred and Dick. He was once again proud of the boy for his resilience and optimism. Bruce could hear the smile in Dick's voice even though the pre-teen had every reason to not smile. He waited until Alfred said, "I'm glad you're back home," before pulling back his cowl and standing. Then Alfred left the Cave, giving Bruce the space he needed to have this conversation.

Bruce approached the exam table. "You know why I did it, right?" he asked before he lost his nerve.

"Did what?" Dick asked.

"Why I didn't... do what those men wanted. If they knew they could hurt me through you, they would hurt you even more."

"Oh. I was worried, when you didn't get free of your restraints faster. I couldn't figure out what you wanted me to do." If it was possible for Bruce to feel any guiltier, Dick's words would have done it. Of course the boy would blame himself. He still thought of Batman as perfect, above reproach.

"The concussion grenade damaged the mechanism in my glove. The lock pick was stuck and it took me that long to get it out."

"So I did okay?" Dick asked. Bruce looked down at his young charge. The boy still craved his approval. It was dangerous to do this job for the glory. Bruce was always careful about doling out praise in small doses. Hubris led to the fall, and in the case of superheroes, to death.

"You did okay," Bruce allowed. "Rest tomorrow, and the next day we will train on how to get free when your attacker has their arm around your neck. We will also discuss reading the situation to see if the enemy is using a diversion."

Dick's smile was blinding. The boy hopped down from the table and gave Bruce a quick hug. "Night, Bruce!" he said, then ran up the stairs. Bruce stared after him. He really did not deserve the love that boy so freely gave him.

**Now**

Robin was quiet on the way home, and he was surprised that his usually loquacious brother was also silent. Maybe Nightwing realized that Robin's head was still pounding and would appreciate the silence.

When they arrived home, Robin went immediately to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror after he removed his mask one-handed. His face was bruised up some, but not too bad. He felt the back of his head and found the dried blood on his hair by large bump. Finally, he lifted his injured hand and examined it. Tim couldn't look at it too long, though. His fingers bent the wrong way made him sick. He changed clothes carefully and then went back into the Cave. Alfred was waiting.

"I assume you are in need of some medical care, Master Tim?" the butler asked.

"Yes, Alfred. Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize for getting hurt. Up on the exam table, please."

Robin had trouble getting up with one hand out of commission and was embarrassed when Alfred had to help him. Alfred examined his face for a few moments before asking to see his hand. Tim held it up and Alfred took hold of the teen's wrist to see it better.

"Odd injury to get in a fight," Alfred commented.

"We were captured. One of the men did this," Tim offered quietly.

"I see." Alfred's voice was a little colder than usual. Tim's stomach churned at the thought of making Alfred upset.

"It's okay. It doesn't hurt much," Tim lied.

"Nonsense," Alfred said, and then more gently, "I'll have to push the fingers back into place. It will hurt worse when I do it, but then it will feel better."

" 'Kay," Tim said, suddenly tired. He was ready to go to bed. Had he really wanted to go on patrol tonight? That seemed like so long ago. Alfred efficiently relocated his fingers. Tim bit his lip and wondered how many times Alfred had done something like this before. Probably a lot. Alfred was right about the pain receding after the fingers were back in place. Tim breathed a sigh of relief.

"Any more injuries?" Alfred asked as he handed over pain pills and a glass of water.

Tim thought about the knot in the back of his head and decided it wasn't important enough to mention. "I'm fine." When the butler looked at him skeptically, Tim gave him a winning smile. "Really, Alfred. I'm fine. Thanks for patching me up." He slid off the table.

"I do hope you'll take it easy for the next day or two, Master Timothy," Alfred said.

"I'm going up to bed now," Tim promised. "Goodnight."

When Tim reached his room, he realized that even though his body was tired, his mind was wide awake. There was no way he would be able to fall asleep. Tim sat crosslegged on the bed and thought about what had happened. Guilt was the overpowering emotion for the evening- at getting the two of them captured, at not being able to escape, and forcing Nightwing to beg for him. Why had Nightwing done that anyway? He knew Batman's teachings and had gone against it anyway. Did Tim really look that weak that Dick had felt the need to beg for him?

A knock drew his attention to the door. "Come in," Tim called. Dick pushed the door farther open and came in.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Bruised, but I'll recover," Tim said.

Dick looked at him with the knowing big brother look. "You want to talk about it?" Tim shrugged. "Is this about getting captured? Because I can tell you, it happens to the best of us."

"You shouldn't have done it!" Tm said. He saw Dick flinch from the force of his words.

"Done what?" Dick asked. He looked honestly confused.

"What those men wanted. You shouldn't have begged. Not for me," he said. Tim mentally added, 'I'm not worth it.'

"Tim, look at me," he commanded. Tim looked up. "I care about you and I would do a lot more than that to keep you safe."

"Yeah?" Tim smiled hesitantly. Living with Bruce and Alfred who kept their emotions buried, he still hadn't gotten used to Dick's bold statements of brotherly love.

"Yeah. You're totally worth it." Dick wrapped an arm around him, and Tim beamed. "I love you, little brother."

The End (For real this time!)


End file.
